


Happy Returns

by enigmaticagentscully



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticagentscully/pseuds/enigmaticagentscully
Summary: "I've held on to everything you've taught me. Like cooking together in our filthy boat. Swimming fully clothed in the ocean..."





	Happy Returns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChancellorGriffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChancellorGriffin/gifts).

> For Claire. Happy birthday, my darling. Estoy contigo <3

Raquel sighed in contentment. “That was wonderful,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You liked it?” asked Sergio, a touch anxiously. “I wasn’t sure if I should attempt to cook something new for a special occasion, but I know you said you wanted to try it, so...”

Raquel just smiled and leaned back, reclining with a satisfied air and taking a sip of red wine from her glass, the ocean breeze stirring her hair slightly as she regarded him fondly.

The boat was spacious enough for two people, but a little ramshackle, so they had piled cushions and blankets in the stern of the boat to make up for the current lack of seats, and thus created an area that was comfortable enough for relaxing while eating the light lunch Sergio had cooked on the little portable stove. Neither of them had become quite used to the earlier mealtimes that were customary in this part of the world and so, with no-one to please but themselves today, they had chosen to eat a little after 2pm. The process of cooking on the boat for the first time had been entertainingly experimental, and now the brisk sea air was filled with the pleasing savoury scent of food that had tasted all the better for the effort that had gone into making it. Or at least, Sergio hoped so. He was determined that today be successful in every respect.

It was, after all, an important day.

Sergio was by nature an earlier riser than Raquel, and he had woken her up this particular morning by playing the piano in the next room, very softly; she had wandered in to listen, barefoot and sleep-tousled, laughing as she realised what song he was playing.

“I don’t remember ever telling you what day my birthday is,” she said, her voice soft and rough with sleep, as she looped her arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head.

“You forget, I did a lot of research on you,” he answered, his fingers dancing lightly over the keys.

“I don’t know if that’s sweet or horrifying,” said Raquel vaguely.

“Well, that’s not the first time someone has said that to me.” Sergio finished the last few notes of the song with a flourish – _happy birthday to you_ – and turned in his seat to kiss her good morning. Her hair brushed his face as she bent her head to meet him halfway, the sunlight turning it golden. Her lips were soft, sweetly familiar. It was going to be a beautiful day.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any big celebration planned,” Sergio said, when they broke apart. “But I do have a surprise for you.”

The surprise in question had been docked at the little jetty overnight, and when they walked down across the beach and Raquel saw it, she stopped in her tracks and whirled around, her expression one of shocked delight.

“You _bought_ the boat?” she said. “It’s ours?”

“Yours,” Sergio corrected, with a smile. “Although I thought we could take it out together today, while Paula is at school. If you wanted.”

Raquel beamed and threw her arms around him, kissing him soundly. “You’ll have to teach me to drive it,” she said.

“And you can teach me to fish, like your father taught you,” said Sergio.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Professor,” said Raquel happily, and kissed him again for good measure, with fierce, joyful abandon.

And now here they are, hours later, the verdant outline of the islands in the distance, the sun high and brilliant overhead, and their efforts in learning to drive the boat more successful by far than those in fishing. The success of Sergio’s cooking was still somewhat in question; whatever she might say, Raquel, he suspected, was inclined to be generous in her praise since it was his first attempt at cooking under such circumstances.

Obviously sensing his scepticism, Raquel put down her glass of wine carefully on the deck, leaned over and kissed his cheek. “The food was delicious,” she said firmly.

Sergio smiled briefly, and stood up to collect and clear away the plastic plates they had been using, cautiously stepping over their respective wine glasses. “I haven’t tried that recipe before,” he said, as he carried the detritus of the meal away, “so there’s no need to spare my feelings. Feedback is always useful.”

Even with his back to her, he could almost hear Raquel rolling her eyes. “Sergio, it was good. I promise. You don’t have to be perfect at everything.”

Ah, so it _wasn’t_ perfect. “But you did like it?” he asked, stowing the plates away along with the portable stove to be cleaned later.

Raquel sighed. “If you ask me that one more time, I’m going home,” she said.

“We’re in the middle of the ocean,” Sergio said vaguely, straightening up. “There’s nowhere to go.”

There was a brief silence and then—

_splash_

Sergio whirled around to see a pair of sandals abandoned on the deck and an empty boat. He hurried to the side to see the ripples in the water.

“Raquel?” he called, half in amusement, half in genuine alarm.

She surfaced a few feet away laughing, shaking her wet hair out of her face.

“Don’t call my bluff, Professor,” she said. “I mean what I say. Now say you believe I liked your cooking.”

“Raquel...”

“Say it! Or I’m swimming home.”

“Alright!” said Sergio. “I believe you. Now please come back into the boat. There could be sharks.”

Raquel swam back to the side of the boat, grinning. “_Sharks_,” she snorted, as she climbed the rusty ladder up the side and stepped carefully onto the deck with the aid of Sergio’s politely proffered hand, leaving wet footprints on the boards. “Honestly.”

Sergio would have thought of some kind of witty reply, but he found himself suddenly extremely distracted by...other things.

Raquel’s hair was hanging in sodden strands around her shoulders, her skin dewy with seawater. Her thin white dress was clinging transparently to every curve of her body; he could plainly see the black bottom part of the bikini she had on underneath, and the fact that she had chosen to forgo the top part altogether. The delicate, dusky pink peaks of her breasts pressed firmly against the thin cotton. She looked like some kind of Greek goddess, risen from the sea foam. If Sergio had been a more suave kind of man, he would have told her so, but instead he just made an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat.

Raquel raised her eyebrows, clearly amused at his staring. “Darling, you’ve seen me naked,” she said, her voice teasing. “Not that I’m not happy I can make you speechless, but it’s a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

“Let’s just say...it’s not something I’ll ever get used to,” managed Sergio, with a self conscious grin, and perhaps he was smoother than he thought, because Raquel smiled back and raised herself up onto her toes to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close, and returned her kiss fervently, responding instinctively to the deliciously erotic sensation of her soft, wet body pressed against his own. Her lips tasted of saltwater and red wine, and every part of his body stirred to a pleasurable ache.

Raquel moaned softly against his mouth, clearly appreciating his ardour, and eased the kiss into something slower, deeper, more...intent. Sergio felt a shudder of desire ripple through his body as she ran her hand slowly down his now slightly damp chest, and lower.

“Raquel...” he said, a little hoarsely. “We are _outside_.”

“So?” She nuzzled at his neck, pressing exquisite little kisses along his jawline. “There’s no-one around for miles.” Her voice was soft, low, dizzyingly seductive. “Haven’t you ever made love under the open sky?”

“No.”

“Neither have I.” She stepped back slowly, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and reached up to slip the straps of her sodden dress down her shoulders. It slid down her body and hit the deck with a soft, wet _thump._

“But there’s a first time for everything, hmm?” she said, cocking her head.

Sergio stared at her, standing before him almost naked, her hair curling mermaid-like in wet fronds around her shoulders, smiling and utterly unashamed in the sunlight. Then, in an instant, he lunged forward and swept her into his arms again, kissing her with a frantic passion. Raquel let out a soft hum of satisfaction that turned into a yelp of surprise as he lifted her bodily off the ground and carried her back over to the cushions, laying her down as gently as he could while still kissing her. God, he wanted to spend every second of his life kissing her.

She pulled him joyfully down on top of her, smiling against his eager mouth, twining her fingers in his hair as their bodies entangled, unheeding of the hard wooden boards under the scant protection of cushions and blankets.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she mumbled between kisses, tugging at his shirt and then flinging it aside triumphantly when Sergio stopped kissing her long enough that she could pull it over his head.

“So are you,” he said, and Raquel giggled – a sweet, beautiful, unexpected sound – and obligingly eased out of the black bikini bottoms that were the one remaining item of clothing she had on, unless you could count her piercings. Sergio showed his appreciation by kissing the hollow of her throat, her shoulders, nuzzling between the soft swell of her breasts, mapping every inch of her warm skin with his hands. His gentle touch slipped down between her legs and Raquel sighed in pleasure.

“That’s good,” she murmured. “That’s good...” and he let her voice guide him, submitting willingly to her direction. He has learned her like the piano; the rhythm of her, the delicacy of touch she needed, lighter here and then firmer, giving himself over to the music of her body. Raquel shivered and squirmed under the practised movement of his hand, a rising melody of sounds falling from her mouth.

“_Oh_...yesyes_yes_...” she gasped. “There, right there...” Her breath stuttered against his lips, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her eyes closed in bliss. “Don’t stop...”

Sergio stroked the wet strands of hair from her face with his spare hand and watched her intently as her words dissolved into sharp, staccato gasps, appreciating every facet of her pleasure; the delicate flush of her skin, the hitching of her breath, her body trembling with rising tension until she unwound all at once, her hips arching violently beneath him and her mouth falling open in a breathy cry of ecstasy. She was so beautiful when she came, almost to the point of art; _a portrait of the goddess in rapture._

He kissed her forehead affectionately as Raquel melted back into coherence, and she opened her eyes, warm and glowing with pleasure, and seized his face in her hands, kissing him fiercely, again and again. “I want you,” she murmured against his lips. “I want you, I want you—”

They managed to divest Sergio of his own clothes with a shared fumbling eagerness, panting and laughing with blissful delight, snatching kisses and entwining limbs, knocking over an empty wine glass that rolled away unheeded across the deck.

“I really like this boat,” Sergio mumbled fervently, and then in a heartbeat he was inside her, and the world stopped and nothing else mattered.

His eyes locked with Raquel’s, his forehead dropping to rest against hers, their mouths parted and panting, sharing breath. “_Sergio_...” she whispered, and had there ever been a lovelier sound than his name on Raquel’s lips? Beside it, the sweetest music paled to irrelevance. “Oh Sergio, _yes_...”

He moved and she moved with him, against him, a steady rhythm of heat and swelling, aching need, every movement intensely, exquisitely pleasurable, every breath exhaled with a moan torn from his throat. He spoke her name into her skin again and again, it too transformed in this moment into something beautiful and unspeakably intimate, theirs and theirs alone. He felt the sun on his back and the water lapping rhythmically at the sides of the boat and Raquel’s hands clutching at his hair, and Raquel’s skin against his skin, and Raquel’s breath in his lungs and Raquel _Raquel, oh Raquel..._

They sprawled out on the cushions afterwards, lazily content, dozing and chatting and kissing the afternoon away until the sun began to set. There was a particular quality to the light where it flowed golden over Raquel’s bare skin that made Sergio wish he were a painter, that he might somehow capture it, even knowing that it was impossible. But his mind had always been analytical, practical, rather than creative. He could follow every intricate step to create the complex origami that was his hobby, but he did not invent his own. He could read music and play, if not perfectly, at least well, but he did not compose. He could plan and execute to the finest detail the greatest robbery in history, but when faced with describing the beauty of the woman he loved lying naked in his arms in the copper embrace of sunset, he was lost for words.

He was no poet, nor artist. He was just an astoundingly lucky man.

Raquel had her head pillowed against his chest; her hair had long since dried, and was a soft mess of loose waves spilled out against his bare skin that Sergio couldn’t help but run his fingers through tenderly. She sighed in contentment.

“I think this might have been the closest thing I have ever had to a perfect day,” she said.

Sergio kissed the top of her head softly. There was no reply to that he could make without seeming trite. “We should get back before it gets dark,” he said gently. “Paula and your mother will be waiting for us to eat.” And, if Paula’s plans had gone well, he suspected there would be cake, though he would not betray that particular surprise to Raquel.

“Okay,” she said, with a hint of regret, and manoeuvred her way out of his arms, pausing along the way to capture his lips again in a final sweet, lazy kiss.

They both collected their clothes and dressed again in comfortable silence, and Sergio started up the boat’s engine, the low rattling roar of it cutting through the stillness and breaking the spell of the afternoon in a bittersweet way. There would be more days like this, Sergio thought – never this one again, but there would be more. A lifetime of days.

Raquel came up behind him as the boat started to move, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist, resting her head on his shoulders.

“My love?” she said softly.

“Yes?”

“The food...to be honest, it really could have used more garlic.”

Sergio laughed, so perfectly, powerfully happy that he could hardly contain it. “I know,” he said, and he turned the wheel of the little boat to set a course for home.


End file.
